Chương 71: Surface Tension

Meno stayed against the dungeon wall even after the stun wore off, forehead still pressed to the stone in the silence the call had left behind. His own voice kept replaying in his head with that stupid, effortless timing, the words leaving him before any part of him thought to check whether they belonged on a public stream. Aurelia had kissed him less than a day ago, and somehow it already felt like he had ruined it.

He wanted to log out, crawl under his bed, and stay there until the universe forgot the clip existed. Meno floated at the entrance of Sunken Spire, staring at the green moss until the shapes blurred and chat began to slow down from cruelty into concern. hey it's okay she didn't say no take a breath don't spiral rare Meno L but recoverable we love you bro He could not answer them, because answering made it real in a different way. Joking made it worse.

Explaining would turn one bad sentence into a meltdown, and he did not have the strength to defend himself from people who had spent the last hour calling him SharkBeadGod. His phone rang again. Meno stared at the call with an expression so flat that even chat stopped memeing for half a second. Unknown number. Gold was the last thing on his mind, and guild negotiation sounded about as appealing as chewing glass.

Still, if he ignored every call after Aurelia had said she would send his number, it would make her look bad. So he accepted.

"This is Kestrel," said a voice younger than the guild-master title suggested, probably thirties, sharp and clean around the edges.

"It would be nice if you kept an eye on your Streamline DMs and invites, and tried to be a bit more professional in interviews." Meno said nothing. The last thing he wanted was a lecture from Crownfall.

"Are you listening?" Kestrel asked.

"Five thousand gold per person up front," Meno said.

"Nobody above forty, permanent priority access to your crafters without getting strung along. I don't need a contract. Promise it on stream. You figure out how they get to the dungeon." Chat woke back up. STRAIGHT TO BUSINESS 5K TAX crafting access he lives Meno is back Kestrel paused.

"Straight to the point. I like it. Our initial offer was two thousand five hundred. That is a large jump. Aren't you being a bit greedy? Do you think we are made of gold?"

"I don't know what you're made of," Meno said.

"I'm made of Bloodwake, and I'm not in the mood for lowball attempts when I can make over one thousand gold profit per crafted weapon."

"Yes," Kestrel said.

"And then you waste hours crafting. This takes you five minutes."

"And it takes you days if you try to carry everyone yourself," Meno said. Silence held on the line. Meno floated in the entrance water and watched a patrols below, counting seconds because it helped keep his voice from shaking.

"Fine," Kestrel said.

"But they keep whatever the boss drops for them. Otherwise five thousand per person is too much. That is a Sleepwalker bounty."

"Deal," Meno said.

"If the boss drops something for them, they keep it."

"Good."

"And you get the other guild leaders to accept it," Meno said.

"I'm not doing separate negotiations." Kestrel's voice cooled.

"What am I, your assistant?"

"All accept, or no deal," Meno said.

"Each guild leader says on stream that I get crafting access, then sends the clip to my chat. I am not doing guild drama. I'll be here in the dungeon and take your people as they arrive."

"What do you take us for?" Kestrel asked.

"We are not scammers."

"Is it too big of an ask?"

"Obviously not," Kestrel said.

"You are just being as annoying as ever. I hate dealing with upstarts like you. Zero clue about anything except playing." The call ended. BIG MAD MILKED BY UPSTART he has face to say that he got hung up on assistant Kestrel 5K CONFIRMED crafting access arc Meno saved the number as Clownfall and then forgot him almost immediately. Aurelia came back instead: her silence, her softer voice, the words we will talk later.

The sentence pressed into his chest with the same shape as drowning, except there was no air bubble to swim toward and no Bloodwake trait to fix it. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. He ran another clear because standing still was becoming dangerous. The run passed in a blur. Pack, kite, stab, Bloodwake heal, next pack. The boss died without a drop.

Meno barely reacted to the empty corpse, which said a lot because twenty minutes earlier he had been ready to accuse the Leviathan Crab of fraud. [Level 44: 10. 0%]"Eighteen more runs to forty-five." He left to reset. Four clips appeared in chat, one from each guild leader: Kestrel, PikeNorth, Thornwake, and Moonwake. Meno did not watch them. Their existence was enough. If the guilds lied later, the clips would do the arguing for him. The phone rang again. Unknown number.

Meno took the call with more annoyance than curiosity.

"Hello?" An older woman's voice came through, calm and friendly enough to make him distrust it after Kestrel.

"Hey, Meno. This is Moonwake."

"Hello," Meno said.

"I thought the deal was done. Did you have a change of heart?"

"Nothing like that," Moonwake said.

"I wanted to talk because you seem to have decided we are all the same. We are not all Kestrel, who is, admittedly, a major asshole." Meno blinked.

"Oh," he said.

"That's fine, then." Moonwake nice? Kestrel catching strays Silverwake PR mommy voice careful"I was also watching your stream," Moonwake said, "and that call with your girlfriend did not exactly go as planned, if I may say." leave him alone don't farm him Moonwake don't too soon not content Meno stayed quiet. Great. This was a pity call. Moonwake kept her voice even.

"My advice is not to apologize for it if it was genuine. Give her space. If you try to solve this immediately like a boss mechanic, it will backfire." mommywake real advice listen rare adult Meno swallowed.

"Thanks," he said.

"I guess."

"Take care of yourself, Meno," Moonwake said.

"I love you. Bye." She hung up. For one second, Meno thought the universe had queued the same attack twice. Then chat detonated. GOTCHA MOMMYWAKE BAIT SHE GOT HIM SHE IS A PRO SECOND I LOVE YOU OMEGA STUN Meno screamed.

"I thought she was just being nice!" He grabbed the side of the air bubble and looked upward like the dungeon ceiling might explain why a grown woman running a major guild was now griefing him. Chat kept spamming gotcha until the word lost meaning. Meno lowered his voice.

"Okay. She got me good." He opened the logout menu.

"I'm taking a break to process this," Meno said.

"I'll be back in an hour or two. If the guild people arrive before me, they can wait." do not go to Aurelia DO NOT CALL touch grass don't make it worse actually touch grass no more calls"I'm not going to Aurelia," Meno said. He logged out and shut off his stream. The capsule opened to his apartment's stale air and dim light. Meno climbed out slowly, stretched until his back popped, then looked down and remembered he was still wearing swim shorts, slippers, and the Late Bloomer shirt.

Changing would require caring, and he did not care. It was hot outside anyway. Vernova was still awake when he left the apartment block. Early Sunday had dark skies and Saturday leftovers: people laughing too loudly near rideshare lanes, couples leaning into each other, and small groups drifting from bars to apartment towers with glitter on their faces and shoes in their hands. Meno walked past them in slippers and a shirt advertising a ninety-seven percent loading bar, and nobody stopped him.

His favorite pizza shop stayed open twenty-four seven. The old guy behind the counter looked up as Meno entered, took in the swim shorts, slippers, and shirt, then shook his head.

"Young people these days." Meno pointed at the display.

"Two margherita slices." The old guy grunted and heated them. Meno took the slices to a corner table and ate while the cheese stretched hot enough to burn the roof of his mouth. Tomato sauce, mozzarella, and the green leaf whose name he always forgot hit better than any dungeon loot. Basil, probably. He was halfway through the second slice when a drunk couple came in, ordered two slices, walked through the entirely empty shop, and sat right next to him. Meno stared at his plate. The man kissed the woman's neck.

She laughed into his mouth. Their elbows nearly touched Meno's table. Was he invisible? Meno finished his slice with controlled violence, wiped his hands, and left before their public display became the third thing he had to process tonight. He took the long way toward the Vernova coast. The city thinned near the water. Tower lights and traffic glow reflected across the waves, breaking over dark ripples and passing boats. Meno found a bench above the beach and sat there while the sea moved below him.

The quiet made him question things he usually outran. He spent his life behind screens and now inside a capsule, chasing numbers that only became money if enough strangers kept watching. Veyrath felt real because pain, fear, and exhaustion followed him out of it, and sometimes reality was hard to distinguish. The only difference was that in Vernova, the monsters hid in skyscrapers. Salt air cooled the sweat at the back of his neck.

Meno stood, walked down to the beach, left his slippers in the sand, and stepped into the dark water wearing swim shorts and the stupid shirt. The first wave hit cold around his shins, good against the summer heat. Meno kept walking deeper. The water rose to his waist, then his chest, tugging at the shirt until the fabric clung to him. The beach lights reached only so far, and beyond them the water darkened quickly. Meno knew this was stupid and did it anyway. He dove. Underwater, there was no Bloodwake.

Cold pressed in around him, and his real lungs ran out faster than his avatar's ever had. Still, the motion felt familiar: kick, pull, angle the body, twist the shoulder, cut sideways. He surfaced fast and took air. Then he dove again. For a few minutes, he tried to carry the movements from Sunken Spire into his real body. The speed was gone, but more of the control translated than he expected. He angled left, kicked right, rolled his shoulder, pushed forward, came up for air, then went back down. It felt good.

Too good. He stopped thinking about how far he had drifted. A cramp seized his calf underwater. Pain snapped through his leg so hard he grabbed it by reflex. Water punished that kind of reflex immediately. One hand locked around his calf, his body started sinking, and kicking with the other leg only pulled the cramp tighter. His arms fought upward, weak and uneven. The surface looked farther than it should have, and panic hit fast. Meno tried to force it down.

He imagined the dungeon, the bubble, the breath waiting above, but his body rejected the lie so hard his mouth almost opened. This was not Veyrath. There was no UI, no Bloodwake, and no skill waiting to save him. He released his calf and clawed upward. Each stroke had less strength than the last, but he kept the motion narrow and focused instead of flailing. Pull. Kick with the good leg. Let the cramped leg drift. Pull again.

The surface broke over his face, and he dragged in air with a rough gulp that hurt all the way down. Meno coughed and paddled toward shore. The trip back felt longer than the whole dungeon. He crawled into shallow water, then onto wet sand, one leg still seized tight enough to make him curse through his teeth. He collapsed on his side, coughing, and massaged the calf until the muscle loosened by degrees. Then he rolled onto his back and looked up at the dark sky above Vernova, washed at the edges by city light.

Meno laughed weakly.

"That was incredibly stupid." The laugh broke after the second breath and turned into shallow sobs before he could stop it.